


Nameday

by Alzerak



Series: Matters of State [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Blow Jobs, Consensual Kink, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teasing, brother-sister incest kink, lady and bastard kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 18:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21396727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alzerak/pseuds/Alzerak
Summary: It is Jon Snow's nameday, and his beloved sister Sansa Stark, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, has a gift for him.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Matters of State [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542565
Comments: 7
Kudos: 76





	Nameday

The echo of Sansa’s words rang in Jon’s mind as he mentally counted down the minutes and seconds as the merriment and laughter of his name-day celebrations continued.

“I’ll have your gift ready in my chambers. Half an hour.” Sansa had breathed in his ear, the gentle squeeze of her hand on his flexed arm still felt by him. With Tormund Giantsbane visiting from the North, there was no danger that Jon’s absence would mean an end to the festivities and celebration, a celebration that Jon found himself enjoying immensely despite his misgivings. He should have known to trust Sansa in such matters.

Jon walked through the corridors and found himself at the doors to Sansa’s chambers. Brienne of Tarth stood, awaiting him.

“Her Grace has commanded that I allow you to enter and then I am to depart for the evening. Should either of you have need of me, I shall be keeping a watchful eye in the hall.”

Jon nodded. “Thank you, Ser Brienne.” 

Brienne inclined her head respectfully, and Jon latched the door behind him as he walked in to Sansa’s chambers.

Not even his wildest, most filthy fantasies prepared Jon for the sight that greeted him as he rounded the corner that shielded Sansa’s bed from the doorway - Queen Sansa Stark lay spread-eagled on her bed, completely naked. Of her four limbs, only her right hand was not secured to a bedpost by a silken anchor. 

Momentarily, Jon was frozen with lust. Sansa’s eyes were closed, but she recognised his footfalls and would have trusted Brienne to her room secure from unwanted interlopers.

“Jon, I’ve been a bad girl.”

Jon could not fathom how ‘naked Sansa Stark’ and ‘bad’ belonged in the same vocabulary, let alone the same sentence, yet he felt as though a force stronger than himself kick-started his mind and body and he found himself stepping closer, speaking words that seemed to be drawn out of him.

“What did you do?” Jon replied in a stern voice. “Speak the truth now.”

“Mmm.” Sansa replied, her hand snaking down her body as her eyes opened and she regarded Jon with a piercing, paralysing blue gaze. “I touched your present, My Lord.”

At these words, Sansa delicately rubbed her finger against the glistening lips of her spread cunny, watching as Jon’s jaw clenched at the sight. 

“Naughty girl!” Jon chided with more gravitas than he felt, reaching out and gently taking her right hand by the rest. Sansa did not resist as he manoeuvred her arm to where a last silken anchor awaited, yet before he could tie her last free hand, he paused.

Sansa, as always, knew why.

“Tonight,” Sansa breathed, looking him over like just the sight of him was causing a lustful reaction inside of her. “I’m your gift, Jon. Tonight, I’m yours to do with as you will.”

Jon could not lie and claim those words had no effect on him. Many times he had dreamed of doing all kinds of wicked and depraved things with his sister-cousin, and even though they had participated in all manner of wicked and glorious things, she had never entrusted him with something so precious as herself before.

Still, she must have seen the tinges of doubt in his eyes.

“You serve me so well, Jon.” Sansa was now looking at him with love in her eyes, in addition to lust. “Both in matters of the heart and in service to our people. For tonight, it would be my pleasure for you to partake in what you desire.”

“If…” Jon ventured. _Would he go to far? What if she was just doing it because she felt he wanted her like this._

“If you don’t feel comfortable having me like this, we don’t have to do this.” Sansa’s hand cradled Jon’s cheek. Jon smelled the scent of her cunny on her fingers as he grasped at her palm and brought her fingertips to kiss mouth to kiss and suck her arousal from her. 

“I don’t want to do this if you don’t.” Jon clarified. Sansa understood.

“I do want it - though if something changes, and you do something I don’t like, or I wish to stop, I will say ‘bitter’.”

“And I’ll stop.”

“And we’ll stop.” Sansa clarified. Her body seemed to thrum with anticipation as Jon focused his lusts by delicately tying Sansa’s last free hand to her bedpost, before a last tenderness overcame him and he pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead.

Sansa sighed as he broke away, her eyelids fluttering at him as he stood and stepped back as though racked with indecision, standing at an exquisite banquet. 

To gain control of himself after the arousing revelation that had happened in the last few minutes, Jon began to undress himself slowly and methodically, a decision that seemed to pay immediate dividends as Sansa looked on. Jon, at times, had to remind himself that he too elicited as much of a reaction from Sansa seeing him as he had from seeing her. This thought fuelled his control as he regained his composure.

Sansa, however, was not one to allow that to happen without a fight. 

“I was thinking of what you would do to me when you saw me like this.” Sansa smirked as Jon turned around in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt. 

Not one to back down from a challenge, Jon responded with a raise of an eyebrow that masked how on edge his control was. “What did you imagine?”

“That you might sup on my cunt, taste the juices of my arousal when you saw the evidence on my curls.” Sansa paused, taking in a heaving breath that cause her chest to rise and fall. “I was so wet at the thought of your touch that I had to touch myself.”

“Was that all?” Jon questioned, trying to control himself.

“That my fingers were your cock, stretching my cunny. That you would lie atop my body, your strong arms holding your body above mine as your lips kissed where they would at your pleasure, your chest touching the hard peaks of my tits, your cock dipping into my soaking cunt at your pleasure as you fucked me harder and harder, as fast and rough as you desired.”

_It was so, so tempting to enact such a glorious imagining, and she knew it, the minx! _ Jon forced himself not to pounce on her, instead, he finished undoing the last button before folding his shirt neatly. 

“I will have to punish you.” Jon regarded her sternly.

“No, please, I’ll be a good girl! Don’t punish me.” 

Jon made himself remember that Sansa had not said the word, and a nod and a subtle look from her indicated that she wished to continue.

Jon ghosted a hand up her shin and the side of her body as he stepped along the side of her bed. “Good girls don’t think of their bastard brother as they play with their cunny.”

There was a pause as Jon wondered if Sansa would accept such a game, but any fears were unfounded as her blue eyes seemed to flood with arousal. “Jon!” Sansa whined, and her legs moved as though she were trying to create friction between them.

Jon leaned down to ghost his lips across hers. “Bastards are creatures of lust. It is not proper to put such temptation in their path.”

Sansa lifted her head as she attempted to kiss Jon’s lips as he spoke, but he was too swift, and backed away as Sansa glared at him. 

Divesting himself of the last of his garments, Jon was pleased to see the lick of her lips that Sansa made when he saw his hard cock jutting from the wiry black hairs at his crotch. 

“Do you want my cock?” Jon asked, stepping closer to the head of her bed where she could not stretch her head to him

Sansa whined with a nod.

“Proper ladies speak when one asks them a question.” Jon corrected.

“Please, My Lord.” Sansa heaved. “Please may I have your cock?”

Jon paused, as though considering, for at last, he knew what he would with this golden opportunity presented to him. “Should I use your mouth for my pleasure, or…” Jon trailed off as his gaze moved down Sansa’s body to the red curls adorning her cunt.

Jon spotted the glint of triumph in Sansa’s eyes as his gaze returned to her face and flickered to her lips. 

“Neither, I believe.” Jon felt cocky as he broke her expectations. “There is no need to rush - I have all the time I desire.”

Sansa seemed confused as Jon rounded the end of the bed and perched himself between her legs, a delicate touch of his fingers on her calves sending a tingle up her body. Jon leaned down to press a kiss to the side of her knees, before ghosting his fingers along the side of her body as he leaned down and nipped at her neck and collarbone, eliciting a moan of satisfaction from Sansa.

“This hardly seems like a punishment.” Sansa breathed. 

Jon smirked even as he broke character, revealing his heart further. “You’re always so gentle.” Jon replied with a whisper to her ear as laced a finger down between the swells of her breasts, travelling down her body but not touching her cunt. “You’re _always touching me, Sansa _and I can never take the time I wish to worship you before I spill. Now though, I can take my time…”

Jon’s hand cupped around her arm as her ran his delicate yet roughened grip up her arm, before he broke away, and returned to trail series of circular movements on the side of her arse, then Jon proceeded to straddle her as the Jon in her imagination had, yet he did not allow his cock or chest to touch her, instead he gently kissed all over her face, pulling away when she tried to reciprocate, a cycle that was quick to learn but hard to master. Jon continued his gentle touches as Sansa whined and moaned and gasped at the increase of her own arousal, yet she seemed to be able to hold on knowing that his cock was rock hard, and soon he must touch her in the way she desired.

Jon backed away, taking his cock in hand in plain view. “I can touch myself, and I can stop myself whenever I like,” Jon may have lied as he began to slowly move his hand up and down his cock. “Would you like to know what your bastard brother thinks when he takes his cock in hand?” Jon asked as Sansa bucked at the question.

“You, of course, sweet sister.” Jon responded to her whine. “You and your gorgeous teats and your beautiful cunt. I come so hard _at the thought _of them. The reality so much more glorious.” 

Jon pulled up a chair and sat himself down as he continued to slowly pump his cock. 

“I took myself in hand when my sister gave me my Stark cloak. I told myself I was a disgusting, wanton pervert and I would not touch myself as I removed my clothes. I told myself I was a disgusting, wanton pervert and I would not touch myself as I replaced the cloak. I told myself I was a disgusting, wanton pervert and I would not touch myself as I imagined the innocent gift of a loving sister. I told myself I was a disgusting, wanton pervert and I would not touch myself as I played with my cock to the memory of my sister asking me if she liked her dress. I told myself I was a disgusting, wanton pervert and I would not touch myself as I remembered saying I liked the Wolf Bit and thinking that only her innocence would have shielded her from knowledge of my obvious perversions. I told myself I was a disgusting, wanton pervert and I would not touch myself as I spilled harder than I ever had before at the imagination that my sister had been pleased as I looked upon her breasts and had pushed them out for my gaze.” 

Jon bucked as he removed his hand from his cock, refusing to allow himself to spill, before returning to Sansa’s body, coated with a sheen her sweat as beads of her arousal glittered in the candlelight. Jon’s mouth began a journey of devotion, licking and kissing and sucking all over Sansa, up her legs and arms, before nibbling at her jaw and finally, planting a kiss to her lips.

Sansa sighed dreamily as her hands attempted to wrap Jon in an embrace, and he smirked against her for that reaction.

“Jon please!” Sansa whined as he pulled away. “This is torture!”

“Naughty girls deserve this for trying to seduce their brother.” Jon growled as he nipped at her cheek. “A proper lady’s cunny is no place for a bastard’s touch, let alone the touch of a bastard brother.”

“They can touch other places...” Sansa challenged.

Jon began to untie the silken restraints on Sansa’s arms. Sansa frowned, as though wondering what Jon was doing, yet his plan soon became apparently as he shifted and guided Sansa to a kneeling position, loosening and rearranging the silk securing her legs so her legs spread open on her bed, so, should he desire, his cock - or his head, could be between her legs. 

Jon scooted himself forward, lifting Sansa up so that her back was flushing against his chest, his cock nestled between the cleft of her arse cheeks as she leaned her head back into the crook of his collarbone. 

“Are you a good girl, Sansa?”

“Uh-uuh.” Sansa whined, stretching her now free arms up and around to try to nestle them in Jon’s hair.

Jon leaned back, and Sansa whined at the loss of contact. “Good noble ladies don’t touch bastards.” Jon corrected, and Sansa obeyed, lowering her hands with a sigh of acceptance. “Good girl.” Jon praised, planting a kiss to the apex of her spine. Sansa almost sagged at this reward, yet the built-up tension was too much and she clenched her hands by her sides.

“Proper ladies control their wanton desires.” Jon kissed just behind Sansa’s ear, moving a hand up her torso to rest just below the dip of her breast, the other squeezing her thigh so his thumb tickled the red curls of her cunt. Sansa wiggled her arse, and Jon had to release an exhale of breath lest his control come crashing down, yet Sansa’s lustful writhing grounded Jon, and gave him the impetus to maintain control as he rubbed his thumbs in circular motions, teasing and tormenting Sansa yet never offering release or an increase in tension. Sansa seemed to wish to touch him back, yet she resisted temptation, and maintained a shaky posture with her hands by her sides as Jon sucked at her shoulders.

“There’s a good girl.” Jon brought his hands up to hover just below Sansa’s breasts. “Does my proper lady sister want her bastard brother to touch her beautiful teats?”

“N-no.” Sansa whined. 

“And why is that?”

“Because they shouldn’t touch a lady’s private area, and a good lady does not want her brother to touch her private places.”

“What about her flower? Should a proper lady let her bastard brother touch her cunny? Should she let him, beg him, to sup on her sweet nectar, a feast from the gods?”

“That’s filthy!” Sansa replied haughtily, even as she bucked again at her words. “No one, not even a lustful bastard, would think of putting their mouth there!”

“This bastard does.” Jon sighed into a kiss against. “He thinks of putting his mouth all over his proper lady sister, _especially _her sweet cunt.” Jon punctuates his words by putting his forearm across Sansa’s body, letting the hairs on his arm kiss the underside of her breasts as Sansa fisted her quilt at Jon’s words. “What about the other way? Does this proper lady know that bastards dream of their cock inside her warm mouth?”

“Yesss.” Sansa hissed. “It is to be expected from creatures of lust.” 

“And yet they are shocked that such creatures wish to sup on a lady’s pleasure?”

“Proper ladies do their duty, they are not wanton creatures bent on their own desires!”

“So this proper lady has never played with her cunt and taken her pleasure at the thought of a bastard cock inside her? Of her bastard _brother’s _cock inside her?”

Sansa shook her head once, then twice, each time shakier than the previous.

“Her noble cunny has never clenched at the idea of his lustful nature overtaking him and causing him to use her for his pleasure?”

“Please, Jon.” Sansa seemed to be on the verge of a sob. “Please!”

Jon at last bucked, his cock slipping between Sansa’s arse as the lubrication of his arousal and her lustful sweat provided slipperiness. “Even a bastard knows that his cock’s place isn’t inside a lady’s cunny.” Jon chided. “Does this proper noble lady _really _want a bastard cock inside her cunt?”

“Yes!” Sansa cried out. “No!” 

“Where should her bastard brother’s cock be?”

“N-not inside her cunny?”

“But she still wants his cock inside her?” 

Sansa leaned over, resting her head on her hands as Jon’s cock stood erect as she wiggled her bum enticingly. Jon paused, unsure if Sansa really wanted to take this step, but she leaned back, her arse bumping against his cock. Jon reached behind for the sweet oil Sansa kept by her bedside. Letting a generous portion drip onto his hand, Jon rubbed the oil around her hole, slowly teasing and lubricating until Sansa sighed, and Jon held his cock, the tip touching Sansa’s arsehole, yet he would not push inside her, instead, letting her set the pace, keeping himself still Jon felt the new sensation of the feel of Sansa’s arse envelop him. Sansa moved slowly, and for a moment, Jon thought to end such experimentation, yet Sansa seemed to wish to continue, and slowly moved back until his cock was fully sheathed inside her. 

Letting out a couple of heavy breaths, they both paused, before Sansa began to move away; not fully, yet enough to indicate her comfort with his movement. 

“And this is where a depraved bastard can take his pleasure?” Jon questioned. “Pumping his hard cock inside her arse, hard and fast?”

Sansa nodded, her response muffled into his own arms.

“_And a proper lady can secretly have her own pleasure as she accepts his cock?” _Jon slowly, gently, yet purposefully pulled Sansa back up, keeping his cock inside her arse the whole time so they were both seated once again. “A proper lady,” Jon punctuated his words with a kiss to the side of her flushed cheek, a pink bloom prettily marking her face. “Should know that bastards are far more wicked.” 

Sansa’s eyes fluttered open and she finally realised why Jon had shifted her; her mirror sat in front of her bed, and now she saw her naked form as she sat on her brother’s cock, her flower blooming between her legs which Jon had spread open with his own. 

“If this good girl wishes for her pleasure, she has to take it with her brother’s _filthy, bastard cock _inside her.”

Sansa obeyed, moving a hand to rub at the button at the apex of her flower. Jon moved his own hand to cover hers, guiding the movements of her fingers as she played with cunt, yet never touching her cunny himself. 

“Sh-sh-surely it would not be any more wrong for him to touch her teats?” Sansa entreated, and Jon showed mercy, cupping Sansa’s left breast with his free hand, pinching her nipple with a little force when her eyes fluttered closed, guiding her hand in circles around her cunny and clit, before withdrawing his hand up to her wristing, letting her place her fingers inside her quim. Sansa’s jaw tensed as she closed her eyes, her peak approaching.

“Open your eyes.” Jon growled commanding. “See how you take your pleasure with your bastard brother’s cock in your arse?” 

Sansa obeyed, moaning as she pumped her fingers into her soaking cunt, her thumb rubbing against her clit as her other hand squeezed Jon’s hand around her breast.

Sansa gasped as her peak took her, her cunny pulsating around her fingers, her body shaking even as Jon’s arm held her steady. “Such a good girl, sweet sister, lovely Sansa.” Jon babbled as his cock responded, sending his seed squirting into Sansa’s arse as she leaned back to hungrily kiss him even as his cock spent inside her; Jon finally allowing himself to reciprocate as they both sagged against each other.

Arya Stark sat herself down where Tormund and Bran seemed to be having a lively and boisterous discussion about something.

“Hey Bran, wanna guess what Sansa got Jon?”

Bran seemed oddly pale - or perhaps green. “I’d rather not contemplate.”

“Hmm.” Arya casually stole a swig from Tormund’s horn. “I suppose the fun wears off when you can literally see anything.” 

“I don’t look.” Bran stared forward.

“Still, I bet I know what they’re doing.”

“We all _know _what they’re doing!” Tormund bellowed. Fortunately, Arya missed Bran’s nauseated shake of his head. “But of course, we should listen to how you came up with the same conclusion as the rest of us.”

“Listen up - now, you’ve got to understand that as much as we love them, they’re both wierdos, not like us normal people. Now Sansa has probably made something like a quilt so Jon is warm and comfortable so that’s why she couldn’t give it to him here.” Arya paused, regarding Bran’s carefully neutral face. “‘Now Arya’, you must be thinking, ‘why should they spend so long together if they’re just looking at quilt, fine as your beloved sister’s craftsmanship is?’ and I will say - they have a weird relationship, and since, unlike myself, who can recognise my brother, they must train themselves by constantly reaffirming each other as Starks. ‘Thank you for the exquisite gift, Sansa Stark.’ Jon would began. ‘You’re welcome, Jon Stark,’ Sansa would reply. ‘Do you like my craftsmanship?’ ‘Yes, it is fantastic, I am honoured you would take the time to create such a gift for me, Sansa Stark’.” At these words, Arya trailed off, a horrified look on her face as though something just clicked in her mind. 

Before Bran or Tormund could raise the alarm and alert Brienne or stop Sansa, Arya had darted down the hall and quickly found herself at Sansa’s door. She bashed her hands against the sold wooden door. 

“JON! SANSA! YOU’D BETTER NOT BE DOING WHAT I THINK YOU’RE DOING! LET ME IN!”

After a very, very, very long pause, Sansa. “We can’t.”

“WHY?” Arya demanded, her worst fears running through her head.

“We’re naked!” Jon responded instantly, and Arya sagged with relief at the ludicrousness of his response. “Yeah very funny, Jon. Great excuse which would have worked if you _weren’t in the room together. _You really need to work on your excuses.” Arya took a breath. “I worked out what you’re really doing though?”

“Do-do we need to talk about it _right now, _Arya?” Arya heard Sansa’s bossy tone through the door. 

“Of course.” Arya replied, affronted. “Because the two of you have sneaked off in the middle when you’re both supposed to be having _fun. _Why, I wonder? Because you began with the gift exchange and your minds suddenly filled with DUTY and RESPONSIBILITY and now you’re doing work instead of relaxing and having fun like you’re supposed to be!”

“We’re having fun.” Sansa replied. “Aren’t we, Jon?”

“Yes, yes, a lot of fun.” Jon seemed desperate to be rid of her. “Not a ledger in sight.”

“And you’re not contemplating the political ramifications of Sansa spending time crafting a quilt.” Arya questioned. “Sansa, I’m trusting you to make _sure_ you’re both not working tonight.”

“Of course, Arya. But if we keep talking about it, I might start thinking about it…”

“Good point. I shall leave you be.”

Arya departed, satisfied that she had stopped them from not allowing themselves to relax. Briefly, Arya wondered how they would have fun. _Probably sit in quiet contemplation at the fireplace._ Arya concluded, happy that her brother and sister could find their own special tranquillity with each other.

“My beloved people, your hero has returned and I have been triumphant in my journey!”

Bran looked concerned. “Fear, though my fears were proven true despite the most flimsy of lies, I believe they will cease their mentally taxing efforts of looking over important matters of state and will instead relax peacefully, before perhaps rejoining us at a later time.”

Jon frowned as Sansa still giggled at him, the hot water lapping at him as he sat with her in her tub. 

“Come on!” Jon protested. “It worked.”

“I wonder if you were just hilariously put on the spot or somewhere inside, you _wanted_ Arya to know, like when you supped on my cunny in the great hall.”

“Careful.” Jon warned. “I’m not completely out of energy yet.”

“Really?” Sansa arched a brow. 

“Really.” Jon growled, pushing Sansa over so she gripped the edge of her tub, before he knelled up and pushed his cock between the welcoming folds of her cunny.

“Jon!” Sansa protested. “This will will hardly work, and you’ll get water all over my floor!”

“I’m a man about to thrust his cock inside his sister’s cunt.” Jon made good on his words as he spoke. “Does it look like I’m thinking critically?”

Sansa’s giggle was cut short as Jon began to thrust himself, yet Sansa was correct, for the water sloshed around them, stopping Jon from building up the swift rhythm he wanted. Quickly he gave up, accepting Sansa’s look of superiority that made his cock twitch at the juxtaposition of lady-like posture and her stunningly naked body.

“Right again, your grace.” Jon rolled his eyes as Sansa sauntered past him, giving his bum a tap. Suddenly overcome with a fresh bout of lust, Jon rushed forward, pushing Sansa on to the bed as she gasp with surprise and shock, yet she was still beaming as her face rested on her bed as he thrust his cock into her tight, wet and warm quim, moving faster than he ever had before. “Fuck, Sansa, you feel so good and wet around me.” Jon elucidated, his hands squeezing her hips tightly as her pistoned his own hips so that his cock dipped deep into the well of her cunny. 

“Fuck me, Jon. Fuck your sister. Fuck your lady sister good and proper.” Sansa demanded as he thrust in to her, but Jon had the strength of will to stop himself, guiding Sansa on shaky legs to the mirror, where he guided her hands to hold on to the solid frame as he spread her legs so he could resuming fucking her with purposeful alacrity. “Fuck me, Sansa, you are _divine._ How do you not spend all your days with your fingers inside your heavenly cunny is beyond me.” Jon felt Sansa’s cunt clench at his words, a fresh sheen of slick erupting from her. “Sansa, look, even your _eyes _are enough to unman me. And your teats, _Sansa_, I could spend just at the sight of them. You’re so beautiful, Sansa.” Jon stuttered as his pelvis hit Sansa’s arse as she fucked him as much as he was fucking her. “And _good, _you’re so fucking _good, _Sansa. You need to see how beautiful you are, _please, _Sansa. I want to suck on your tits and lick at your cunt as I fuck you.”

“Reality.” Sansa breathed lightly. “Is often disappointing.”

“Loving you can never be disappointing, gorgeous girl.” Jon sucked a mark into Sansa’s neck, where her dress could hide it, should she desire as his cock unleashed his load into her cunt as it squeezed and pulsed around him 

Jon instantly dropped to his knees and lifted Sansa’s leg up, his lips and tongue lapping into her flower even as his seed dripped from her, coaxing her peak to a plateau of pleasure. 

“I feel beautiful when you’re with me.” Sansa confessed, her cheeks flushing at the admittance even as Jon tongue-fucked her cunny. “Although I don’t really think of myself when I touch myself. There is another I find far more beautiful.”

Jon pulled himself away. “Sacrilege and treasonous words!” Jon protested as Sansa giggled. 

“But it is your nameday and so I shall not argue the point.” Sansa concede with a smirk that turned into a sigh as Jon pushed Sansa onto the bed, her legs spread open so he could lap at her cunny at his pleasure, Sansa relaxing as her hands found their way to his curls, where, despite his words earlier, he could welcome her loving touch.

When they returned, the festivities had changed. The doors had been opened, and there was a rowdy party outside, but Ser Brienne had retired, as did Bran at their entrance, but Arya was drunkenly arguing with Tormund about something even Sansa seemed lost trying to understand. 

Jon smiled at the sight, but his queen was wicked. “Do you remember what I suggested the other day?”

“Here?” Jon asked, askance even as his dick grew hard at the thought. 

“Mmm-hmm.” Sansa replied, her eyes surreptitiously studying the drunken people still in the hall. “I haven’t yet sucked your cock tonight.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Jon, look me in the eyes and tell me you _don’t _want my mouth on your cock.” Sansa smirked as Jon’s particular protest died. “Besides, I’ve come up with a clever aid to help me get you off faster.”

“Literally being yourself?” Jon questioned with a good-natured eyeroll.

“No, I did not put any smallclothes on, so I can touch my cunt as I give my brother pleasure in the great hall, and I _know_ how much it turns you on when I have my pleasure.”

Jon’s eyes widened, but Sansa clearly saw an opportunity and she slipped under the table. Jon’s eyes darted around in a panic, but Sansa was not being slow, already opening his breeches as Jon’s mind came to the conclusion that no one had noticed. Sansa wasted no time, taking his hard cock into her warm and wet mouth as Jon’s cheeks flushed as he felt the tell-tale sign of Sansa oscillating due to her finger rubbing at her cunny, even as her mouth sucked and pumped his cock. Jon felt his cheeks flushed, taking a drink of wine he prayed that any who looked upon him would blame the strong drink. Sansa was skilful, and she was making no effort to prolong his pleasure, and between her ministrations and the sheer _wrongness_ of the situation, and the feel of her mouth pausing as she took in her own shuddering peak, Jon spent, feeling Sansa swallow around his cock before she tucked him back into his breeches. Glancing around, Jon tugged her up, eyes widening at the sight of a little of his seed resting on her lip when she sat beside him. Jon licked his lip and Sansa, blessedly, recognised his panic and somehow managed to be sensuous even then, as Tormund and Arya drunkenly stumbled to the high table. 

“Fuckin’ Jonsa’ll tell us.” Arya slurred as she tried to balance herself against the table and Tormund.

“Yeah Jonsa fuckin’ tell us.” Tormund added.

“Go to bed.” Sansa commanded. Jon tried to nod as sternly as possible.

“Yeah.” Arya slurred, stumbling with Tormund as he began to bellow out a dirty ballad. “Jonsa fucking told us.”


End file.
